


and so it goes

by visiblemarket



Series: Teenage Dreams [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:06:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7440382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visiblemarket/pseuds/visiblemarket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Finn starts school about a week late — he’s had worse — makes sure to get to his first class early, slides into an empty seat, takes out his notebook and a pen, and looks up to find himself staring at the most beautiful human being he’s ever seen.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this prompt](http://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/4613.html?thread=11141893#cmt11141893) on the kink meme but uh...obviously it spiraled.
> 
> (There's a lot of underaged making out but the actual sex stuff doesn't happen till everyone's eighteen).

“I like girls,” Finn said.

“Okay,” Poe answered, and it was: of course it was. Not like it's the first time that’d happened, Poe’d had more than his fair share of crushes on straight guys before, he always got over it, it was fine. He’d thought it was different with Finn — he’d thought he’d felt _something_ , something in the way Finn looked at him, talked to him, wanted to be around him. But Finn’d needed him as a friend, obviously, and that was—that was fine. Great. “Okay,” Poe said, again, and found his gaze dropping to the floor. It _was_ fine. The vast, gnawing pit in his stomach, that was—temporary. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. To shut Finn out because he didn’t — _couldn’t_ — feel the same way Poe did would be shitty and cruel. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and blinked a few times, before looking up again. “Do you wanna…” his voice wavered, and he couldn’t think of what else to say. _Damn it_.

Finn frowned at him, concerned, and took a step closer. Poe took a step back: didn’t want to be pitied, and being close to him, right now, sounded kind of painful.

“No, wait—“ Finn said, brow furrowing. “I didn’t mean—I mean, I did, but—great, I’m doing this wrong, what I wanted to—“ he let out a frustrated kind of groan, squared his shoulders, and powered through. "I do like girls. But I mean I think I—I kinda…like you too."

“I’m not a girl,” Poe said, knowing it was dumb as hell, but somehow too shocked to come up with anything better.

Finn rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. But I still—“ he shrugged. “I like you. I think about—“ he dropped his gaze, and scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the floor. “Kissing you. And stuff. Sometimes. Is that…you know…” Finn glanced up, and then away again. “Is that okay?"

Poe blinked. Took a breath. Took a step closer, just a small one, but suddenly Finn was in range again and everything seemed wonderful. “It’s okay by me,” he said, hoping to god he sounded at least somewhat cool.

Maybe he squeaked a little. Maybe his voice cracked. Maybe he was a total mess and not cool at all.

But maybe he didn’t care, because when Finn looked up at him, he was smiling. That big, bright Finn smile that lit up his face and the world around him and filled Poe’s chest with warmth and joy and fondness.

It was bad, he knew: Finn thought about kissing him, sometimes, and that was great, but Poe thought about loving Finn, about protecting him, caring for him, making sure he got all of the stability and affection he’d missed out on, growing up the way he had.

It was too much, too soon, he didn't know what Finn wanted and he didn’t even really know what _he_ wanted, but Finn was so close, within reach like he’d never been before: their bodies angling toward each other, hips almost touching, as if drawn by gravitational force. Their gazes meeting, then skittering away. Their smiles fading, as the moments stretched.

Finn reached out and grabbed his hands. Their fingers twined together.

Poe looked up.

“I like your hair,” Finn said, and then cringed, as if he’d meant to say something else.

“I love your eyes,” Poe said, and hated himself for it: he did, of course, because Finn’s eyes were gorgeous, a rich, dark, brown, full of life and emotion and part of Finn’s adorably terrible poker face. But it was embarrassing to say out loud, to drop the L word, even about something as innocuous as that. He was going to scare Finn off before he even really got a chance to have him.

Finn grinned again; hadn’t been scared off yet, apparently. “Yeah?”

Poe felt himself blush, and shrugged. Could’ve played it off, but: “Yeah."

Finn leaned in; Poe reached out to meet him.

Their lips met. Poe’s breath caught. The world could’ve ended, right then, right there, and it would’ve been enough.

***

That was six months ago. The world hadn't ended, of course. It’d gotten better, exponentially, every single day.

They’ve done their share of kissing since then, for one, and gotten a hell of a lot better at it, in Poe’s now better educated opinion. They’ve done some other stuff too, rolling around, mostly clothed, in the musty, cozy privacy of Poe’s bedroom after school. They just have to make sure not to get too carried away, to disengage from each other by six thirty, giving them both enough time to cool off and settle down before Poe’s dad gets home.

But it’s nice, having Finn in his bed. Sometimes they do their homework, or watch movies on Poe’s laptop, or play with BB-8, who’s technically not allowed on the bed, but what Kes Dameron doesn’t know about what goes on in his house while he’s at work won’t kill him.

Sometimes, Finn falls asleep; Poe’s okay with that, likes the idea that Finn feels comfortable enough to sleep around him. He mostly sits there and watches him, not in a creepy way, or so he hopes. Tries not to do it too much, sometimes just settles down next to Finn instead and shuts his eyes for a while too, or reads a little, with Finn curled up against his side and breathing softly against his neck.

Most times, they just make out. Tangled up in each other, rubbing up against thighs, stroking at ribs through t-shirts, kissing until their lips are swollen. Lately, hands have begun sneaking past the already rather artificial cotton barriers, slipping under shirts and running up along chests and backs.

Poe’s come in his jeans at least three times, just from rubbing up against Finn, which would be embarrassing, and is, kind of, except that he’s pretty sure Finn has too, so it’s not really _that_ embarrassing. He wonders if Finn wants more from him, or expects anything else, from whatever it is they are. Maybe if he was— maybe if they were _dating_ , one of them would’ve broached the subject already.

He wonders if Finn thinks about it. Going any further, that is. He could ask, obviously, but if Finn hasn’t, the chance he’d freak him out by asking seems pretty high. They haven’t exactly talked about it, but he’s pretty sure he was probably Finn’s first kiss; with a guy, definitely. The idea of going any further than kissing, or thoughtless and thus far unacknowledged dry-humping in the privacy of Poe’s bedroom, is intoxicatingly tempting to Poe, who’s had plenty of time to come around to the fact that he’s into guys generally and Finn specifically. For Finn, hell, who knows. He doesn’t want to push him, or freak him out, for very basic, very selfish reasons: he likes Finn too much to lose him. Maybe even sort of loves him.

Finn — who’s been lying on his back, cooling off from their latest make out session and staring up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers Poe and his mom had put up on the ceiling when he was six years old — glances over at him. “Hey.”

Poe turns onto his side and smiles. Maybe sort of definitely loves him, actually. “Hi."

Finn reaches out, rests his hand on Poe’s cheek. “Can I…Can I tell you something?"

Poe tries not to panic. “Sure.”

“It’s…kind of my birthday.”

Poe blinks. “What?"

Finn swallows. “Today. It’s kind of my birthday, today."

“I—what? Why didn’t you—?”

Finn turns away from him, lets his hand drop from Poe’s face. “Didn’t want to make a big deal out of it."

“Finn. Buddy, you should’ve—“ Poe leans over, wanting to meet his eyes, putting himself practically on top of Finn in the process. “Hey. Listen. If you really don’t wanna make a big deal out of it, that’s cool.” Finn looks up at him, and Poe feels a warm, familiar hand sliding up along his ribs. “But we could still—do something, y’know? I can call my dad, tell him we’re hanging out, and we can—go out for dinner, or something, and—"

“Sort of like a date?” Finn says, carefully, and Poe’s heart skips: Finn’s never broached the subject of actually _going out_ before.

“Exactly like a date,” he says, and resists the urge to backtrack. He’s going to be brave. He’s going to stand firm, and face rejection, if that’s what’s coming.

He doesn’t have to, it turns out: Finn grins, and reaches out, wrapping a hand around the back of Poe’s neck. “Yeah?” he says, smile wavering a little.

“Yeah,” Poe answers, and leans in again, for a quick, reassuring kiss that gets rapidly and predictably out of hand.

Finn’s fingers run carefully through Poe’s hair, and up under his shirt, across his back. Poe sucks on Finn’s tongue, and lets himself press against him, chest to chest, hip to hip. He’s hard again, probably because he hadn’t come before, when they’d just been kissing lazily. Finn pushes back, strongly enough that they roll, that Poe finds himself on his back with Finn on top of him. They stay like that for a while, kissing, hips thrusting, cocks rubbing impatiently against each other through several layers of jeans and underwear. Poe wraps his arm around the back of Finn’s neck, and lets his legs fall open, making sure to give Finn enough room to really move.

Finn pulls back, going so far as to sit up, and Poe’s heart stops.

“Finn? Are you okay? Did I—"

“Should I take my shirt off?” says Finn, very quickly,

Poe stares for a moment, and then swallows. “I mean. Yeah. Yeah, if you…if you want. I could—“ he sits up, too quickly, and finds himself almost bashed in the nose by Finn’s elbow as he drags his shirt over his head.

“Shit, sorry, are you—"

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I'm—“ he is, he is fine, he uses the cover of his own efforts to wrestle his shirt off to cover the momentary watering of his eyes from when Finn’s elbow hit his cheekbone. “I’m…”

And then it strikes him, their situation: Finn’s kneeling between his legs, which are spread. He’s sitting up, shirtless, looking straight at Finn, who’s likewise upright, with his bare chest on full display. For all the time they’ve spent together, making out, pressed chest to chest, he’s never seen this much of Finn at once, and he needs a moment to take it all in.

Finn’s in good shape, a little broader across than Poe is, skin smooth across his chest and all the way down his torso, except for the slight, dark trail of hair creeping under the zipper of his jeans. Poe rests a hand on Finn’s shoulder, lets his fingers trail along Finn’s chest, along the contours of his pecs, down his abdomen. The tips of his fingers come to rest on the waistband of Finn’s jeans; he doesn’t mean anything by it, it just happens, but Finn seems to take it as a sign, immediately goes to unbutton his jeans and unzip his fly.

“Hey,” Poe says, cautious — not wanting to stop him, obviously, but also wanting to make sure Finn’s all right with where this is clearly going. Finn stares at him, dark eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

“Hey,” he says, voice gone husky. “I’m, uh—are we okay? Is this okay? Do you want to slow down?"

Poe chokes back a laugh. “Hell no,” he says, too loudly, but Finn grins and grabs Poe’s face in his hands and kisses him again. Poe lets himself fall back onto the bed, bringing Finn with him — he likes that, he realizes, having Finn on top of him, being able to run his hands along Finn’s back while Finn runs his fingers through Poe’s hair. And now, they’re skin to skin, and everything is warm and immediate and intoxicating. Poe can’t think, just acts, drops his hands down to Finn’s fly and unbuttons it, slides the zipper down. Finn inhales, sharp, ducking his head as he reaches for Poe’s jeans and does the same for him.

They squirm out of their pants and underwear — it’s awkward, Finn has to roll off him for a bit to be able to manage, and when they come back together, facing each other side by side, neither of them seems entirely sure of what to do. Finn’s palm curls around Poe’s hip and draws him closer; Poe slips his thigh between Finn’s legs and wraps his hand around the back of Finn’s neck. Strokes his thumb along Finn’s cheek, and tries to get a handle on the situation, on the fact that he can feel Finn’s erection leaking against his leg, that his own dick is pressed tight against Finn’s thigh, which is firm and warm and practically begging to be ground up against.

“We should—“ he starts, and then Finn kisses him, and he’s lost, totally out of it, adrift and drowning in sensation. They disengage to catch their breaths, and Poe’s brain flickers back online: “Get under the covers."

“Why?” Finn pants, and at least he sounds about as out of it as Poe feels.

“I don’t—“ he tries to take a breath, tries to come up with a reason — doesn’t have one, except that with all their clothes off — _all their clothes off_ , they have all their clothes off, _they’re going to have sex_ — it might get cold, and he doesn’t want Finn to get cold. “I just—I just think we should.”

“Okay.” Finn says, because he trusts him, apparently. _Jesus, Mary, and Joseph_.

They roll to the corner of Poe’s bed, pull at the corner of the sheets, and roll back over, trying to squirm under them. It sort of works — they manage to get under the quilt, at least. And then it’s just the two of them, naked, Finn pressed up against him, shuddering, though not from the cold, apparently. Poe rubs his hands up and down along Finn’s back anyway, as if trying to keep him warm.

“Okay?” he says, not sure what he wants the answer to be.

“I—“ Finn looks at him, dark-eyed and slightly panicked. “I don’t know—I’ve never—“

“Me neither,” says Poe, too quickly, and feels himself blush.

It’s worth it: Finn smiles, and some of the tension in him eases. “Yeah?"

Poe nods, grins back. “We can do this,” he says, forcing some certainty into his tone. Figures that’s what Finn needs right now, someone who knows what he’s doing. He can handle this; he can handle anything.

He’s got the basics down, anyway. Theoretically, at least. He’s certainly thought about it enough. There are condoms and lube within reach, if it comes to that — though, from the way it feels, just having Finn on top of him, they might not get that far. Especially once Finn’s mouth finds its way to Poe’s throat, where he drops a quick, almost experimental kiss right below Poe’s ear. Poe throws his head back against the pillow, arching his neck, encouraging him. Finn takes the hint, dropping more soft, wet kisses up along the column of Poe’s throat, nothing that would leave a mark. Not that Poe would mind, of course.

He reaches out and starts stroking at Finn’s back again, partly because he wants to, partly because he figures it's a nice thing to do. Finn’s breath catches against his collarbone, and Poe smiles, lets his hands slide up along the warm, smooth skin, over Finn’s shoulders, up his neck, through his short hair.

Finn pulls back a little, still breathing hard. “I, uh—“ his hands come up to frame Poe's face, and he makes an obvious point to look into Poe’s eyes. “Thanks.”

 _For what?_ Poe’s about to say, but then Finn is kissing him again, and he can’t think, much less speak

***


	2. Chapter 2

Kes Dameron has no illusions of his own parenting abilities: he’s not a perfect father, far from it. He works late, he doesn’t talk much, and the less said about his cooking the better. But he does his best, and Poe’s a much better kid than he deserves, so there’s some things he’s never really expected to encounter. And coming home to find his son, naked, twined around another young man in bed — in _the very same bed_ Poe has had since he was eight years old and outgrew the one shaped like a fighter jet — yeah, he has to admit, that was pretty high on that list of unexpected things.

So, there was a certain amount of shock involved. He may have said some things; he’s actually not entirely certain what they were. Something along the lines of _What the hell are you doing_ , probably. Hell was definitely invoked more than it should’ve been, given that it’s not exactly relevant to the proceedings.

And now he’s got a pale, sweaty teenager wearing a shirt that’s not his own, inside out and (given the tag under his chin) the wrong way around, wringing his hands in his lap while he slumps in an armchair in the living room.

BB-8, sensing how upset he is, has flopped down against Poe’s legs, panting unhappily and staring at Kes with coal-black eyes. Kes can’t shake the feeling that he’s being judged and found wanting by an animal that’s scared of bubble wrap and hairbrushes; it doesn’t feel great, truth be told.

“Was that Finn?"

Poe nods, quickly, still staring at the floor.

“Where'd he go?"

“Out the window."

“ _What_?” Kes takes a breath, tries to regain some semblance of calm, and tries again: “Why the hell would he—"

“I told him not to!"

“But?"

Poe doesn’t meet his eyes, but mumbles something that’s maybe, possibly, “ _freaked him out_ ”, under his breath.

Kes stifles a groan. Sits down on the couch, and lets his face fall into his open hands. Fuck, what a mess.

He takes a couple more steadying breaths, then turns to look at Poe, who hasn’t moved: hands still folded in his lap, eyes still focused on the floor ahead of him. Still in that way Poe has, where he bottles everything up, meaning he’s quietly panicking and probably spiraling into deep despair.

“Hey,” Kes says, and hates how gruff he sounds. “You all right over there?"

Poe shakes his head.

“Talk to me, kid,” he says, softer. Poe glances at him, wary and almost indignant. “C’mon, Poe, help me out here. What’s going on?"

“You _know_ what’s going on! I was having—we were—Finn and I were—we were having _sex_!"

 _Yeah, figured that out from the eyeful I got_ , Kes doesn’t say. Sarcasm, while comforting, and automatic, probably has no place here. He taps his fingers across his knees, and tries to think. “You two dating?"

Poe shrugs, eyes darting away.

“Poe."

“I don’t know."

“You don’t _know_?” Kes says, incredulity bursting through that hard-earned semblance of calm. “How the hell do you not—"

“We haven’t exactly talked about it!”

“You haven’t—"

"He's not my boyfriend,” Poe says with a kind of pointed, bitter finality that Kes knows will need further discussion later, but now, maybe, there are other issues to deal with.

“But you're having sex?” He tries not to sound judgmental; given the look Poe throws him, he fails miserably.

"People have sex with people who aren't their boyfriends all the time."

"Do you?"

Poe shrugs again.

“Kid, I’m gonna need some actual words here."

“I ain’t got any,” Poe says, sharp, and then seems to regret it, flushing red and dropping his gaze.

“So you’re—"

“Gay, yeah.” Poe glances up, a distinct challenge in his tone, steel in his gaze — he looks so much like his mother, so brave and sure and strong, that Kes’s breath catches. And then Poe's bottom lip quivers, and suddenly he’s six years old again, refusing to cry from the pain of a broken arm he’d gotten falling from a tree he wasn’t supposed to be climbing.

 _Jesus, Mary, and Joseph_ , Kes thinks to himself, and gets up.

“Come on,” he says, and dips his head, gesturing toward the kitchen. Poe trails him wordlessly, eyes still glued to the floor in front of him, shoulders still rigid with unconcealed tension; BB-8 brings up the rear, tags rattling as he jogs after them as fast as his stubby legs can carry him.

Kes opens the refrigerator, pulls out two bottles of beer, and opens one of them. “Here,” he says, handing it to Poe.

“I’m not twenty-one,” Poe says, taking it anyway.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kes says, opening his own. “You ain't a kid anymore.” He bumps the necks of their bottles together. “Cheers.”

Poe looks momentarily confused, but answers: “Cheers.”

They both take a drink. Poe makes a face, and Kes has to smile: either he’s never had a drink before, or he’s pretending, for the sake of his father’s peace of mind. Either way: “You’re a good kid."

Poe snorts, and takes another cautious sip from his beer. “Thought I wasn’t a kid anymore."

“You’ll always be a kid to me,” Kes says. “But it’s true. You’re eighteen now— couple of months from now, you’ll be out of here, on your own. It’ll be up to you to take care of yourself, y’know? Bein’…safe and all that?"

Poe chokes, loudly. “Yep,” he croaks. “Yep, I know about—all that."

“You sure? ‘cause I gotta—“ Kes feels himself flush a little, rubs the back of his neck with his condensation-dampened palm . “Gotta tell you, kid, I don’t know a lot about…that, with…what men _do_ —"

“Dad!"

“But if you wanna talk it through, I can—"

“No! You don’t—god, no, no need!"

“Poe."

“Dad."

“I’m good,” Poe says, blushing a little, but seemingly calmer. Kes gives him a look. “I am! I promise.”

Kes takes a long swig of his beer, mostly to buy time. When he’s done, he nods, deep, final. “I trust you.”

Poe still looks embarrassed, but he returns the nod, and takes another sip. “Okay."

“And I like Finn.” He does, what he knows of him, anyway. Poe’s been very careful to keep the two of them from meeting or speaking or interacting beyond the initial introductions. “I’d like to—we should—Bring him to dinner sometime. Give us a chance to…” _meet under better, more clothed circumstances._ “Get to know each other better."

Poe blanches, and then shakes his head, rapidly. “I don’t…I mean, if he…if he even wants to…after all of—“ he shrugs, and looks down. “I’ll ask,” he says, in a quiet little voice that Kes recognizes. He puts his beer down on the counter, and opens his arms.

“Okay," he says, and waits.

Poe seems wary. “Okay what?”

"Get over here."

Poe laughs a little, rolls his eyes. “ _Dad_ …” he says, something of a token protest, because he walks over immediately, lets himself be hugged, and hugs back. Even lets himself be kissed on the forehead, which he’d usually make a face at, these days.

Kes releases him after a moment, and holds him out to get a good look at him: he’s still just _Poe_ , his sweet, quick-tempered, sometime-reckless, always well-intentioned kid. He looks a little calmer than before, no longer on the verge of tears, but still pale, still nervous. Kes lets go of his arms, watches him duck down to pet BB-8, who’s been whining impatiently at him.

“You all right, kid? No one’s givin' you a hard time about this, right?"

“No one knows but you,” he says, which is a typical Poe non-answer; he won’t lie directly but he’ll obfuscate, if he thinks it's for Kes’s own good. “You and Finn, I mean.”

“Someone else suspects, though?"

Poe shrugs. “I don’t care what other people think.”

“Uh-huh,” says Kes, wondering if storming into that school of his and making a scene with the principal will cause Poe more problems than it’s worth. “Finn treatin’ you all right?"

“Yes,” he says, sharply, and then sighs. “Finn’s great."

“But the two of you ain’t dating?"

Poe sighs, and straightens. “It’s complicated,” he says, and Kes snorts. “What?"

“I’ll bet it's not as complicated as you’re making it."

“Bet it’d be a hell of a lot less complicated if you hadn’t stormed in here and put the fear of god in him."

“Well,” Kes says, reaching for his bottle of beer again. “Gonna go ahead and give you that one. But,” he says, pointing at Poe. “That ain’t nothing we can’t fix.”

***


	3. Chapter 3

Finn doesn’t remember his parents.

Finn doesn’t remember a lot of things: his first day of school, the first place he ever lived, his first social worker. The first foster home he got sent to, and then removed from, for reasons that are strangely vague in his file. Any of his birthdays from the age of one to seven; any of the books he was read as a child, any of the songs he was sung, any of the tv shows he watched.

He figures some of that’s normal; most people probably don’t remember all those things, or any of those things. Chances are, some of those are memories he doesn’t need, or is better off not having. Though it’d be kind of nice, he thinks, to at least know what his mom and dad looked like.

But there’s nothing he can do about that, about the memories he’s lost. He’s at his third school in as many years when he realizes that, eating his lunch alone on the bleachers and thinking about his future. What he decides, quietly, is that what it should be, more than anything, is better than his past. He is going to be a better student, he is going to be friendly, he is going to figure out what it is his next foster parents want from him and he is going to make sure they get it, because he is going to find a home and make a life and have something to look back on to remind him of who he is.

The best laid plans, and all that: he does his best, studies hard, makes some friends, and gets bumped from two more homes before landing in some middle of nowhere little town with a main street, a single stoplight, a sheriff’s department, and more cows than people, four months after he turns seventeen.

His foster mother is tall and imposing, and he shares a room with three other guys, and he’s just about aged out of the system. It’s a little late to be finding a home, and even if it wasn’t, he’s not sure this is the one he’d want. But he’s thinking about college, and he’s got a counselor who actually gives a shit for once, and for a high school that’s got barely a hundred students, there’s a surprising amount of AP classes available. He needs those, as many as he can take, college credits he can get for free before he has to pay for his own tuition.

He starts school about a week late — he’s had worse — makes sure to get to his first class (AP English Literature) early, slides into an empty seat, takes out his notebook and a pen, and looks up to find himself staring at the most beautiful human being he’s ever seen.

“Hi,” says the vision, smiling a very friendly smile that doesn’t help the whole… _extreme handsomeness_ …situation he’s got going on. “You’re new, right?"

“Uh-huh,” Finn manages.

Mr. Handsome gives him a strange look, smile fading for a second, and then holds out his hand. “I’m Poe.”

He reaches out, shakes Poe’s hand: his palm’s rough and his skin is warm and Finn can barely stutter out his name, but apparently he does well enough, because Poe smiles again.

“Nice to meet you, Finn,” he says, and sits down in the chair next to him.

Class starts. Finn doesn’t hear a word of it.

***

Finn doesn’t get it. It’s not even that he’s _attracted_ to Poe: it’d be like being attracted to a sunset, or a statue. Something so unattainable and part of an entirely different classification. And he’s never felt that way about another guy before, never even considered it. But he looks at Poe, and he’s breathless, entirely stunned, struck dumb.

He gets better about it.

He has to, because Poe appoints himself Finn’s new tour guide, taking him around the school building (which he’s already seen), asking him about his schedule, inviting him to eat lunch at the same table with all of Poe’s friends, and managing to do all of it, somehow, while seeming like there’s nothing in the world he’d rather be doing. By the end of the day, at least, the exposure has made Finn somewhat immune: he can even look straight at Poe, take in the dark curls and the perfect lashes and the hazel eyes, and be able to answer casual questions about where he’s just moved from honestly and without sounding like a total charity case. Poe doesn’t treat him like one, anyway, just offers to share his notes for the classes they have in common and leaves it at that.

It’s not like Finn hasn’t had friends before — well, it’s not like Finn hasn’t had people he’s been _friendly with_ before, but it usually doesn’t take, something about him seems to put people off. Given how often he’s bumped around, it’s just as well, probably. Rey was two years ago, and since then, he’s known better than to try and get attached.

But Poe is just — _there_.

He’s kind and funny and friendly and well-liked, quietly popular but almost embarrassed about it. It takes Finn about a week to realize that Poe smiles and talks and jokes around, but he doesn’t hang out with people after school or on the weekends, not even with his lunch-table friends. He doesn’t seem particularly interested in seeing Finn outside of school either, not that Finn expects him to be — sometimes they study together in the library, since they’ve got a free period in common. Poe’s in his physics class, too, and they’ll work things out together; sometimes, Finn goes through his Spanish homework and catches Poe glancing at it with curiosity. He doesn’t share much about himself, either; Finn hears, from other people, that Poe’s dad is a sergeant in the sheriff’s department and that his mom died when Poe was little.

They’re school friends, Finn figures. That’s fine. There’s worse ways to get through a school year, than with one person who likes him enough to hang out with him, and a few others who know him well enough to say hi in the halls. At least he has someone to sit next to in every class he takes, and people to partner up with for in-class activities. Even Art History, where Snap Wexley likes to scoot his chair up next to Finn when the lights are off and elbow him in the ribs, pointing out how the figures in the slides up on the screen look like people they know.

School is fine; home, once he figures out that the consequences for being late for dinner is that he doesn’t get any, is fine. Weekends are filled with housework, which he doesn’t mind, and homework, which he’s okay at but which he feels weird doing alone, now.

He has strange dreams on weekends, ones he doesn’t quite remember but wakes up from restless and sweaty and impatient; he rolls over onto his side and tries not to think about them too much. Then it stops being just weekends; it starts being every night, and they stop being quite so hard to remember.

About halfway through the semester, right around midterms, their physics teacher pairs them off and assigns each group a chapter to present from the textbook; Poe’s his partner, of course, and for once, Finn kind of regrets it. They’re going to have to work outside of school, and the idea of Poe coming to the house, with all the kids and the bunk beds and the locks on the cupboards, makes his stomach churn. Poe either notices his discomfort or is equally reluctant to step into Finn’s space, because he doesn’t even raise it as an option, just invites Finn over to his house after school; either way, Finn’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Poe’s house is a bit of a trek — he drives to school, in an old black pickup that he keeps spotless, inside and out. After about a fifteen minute drive through town and past some corn fields, they pull up in a dusty yard, in front of a nice, one-story building with a wooden porch. Finn can hear a kind of desperate howling coming from inside, and glances over at Poe, who laughs a little, ducking his head.

“You like dogs, right?” Poe says, jokingly, but Finn gets the feeling a negative answer will cost him major points.

“I don’t know,” he says, which is the truth: Finn has very little experience with dogs. None of the places he’s lived in have had them.

Poe’s dog is friendly, at least, a fluffy little orange tube of exuberance that wiggles excitedly around Poe and even gives Finn a happy tail wag or two. Its name is BB-8 (“It’s a long story”, Poe says, and leaves it at that), and it follows them around the house: into the kitchen, where Poe pours them both glasses of water and grabs a bag of chips, to the living room, where they set their backpacks down and set their notebooks up on the coffee table. Poe goes to get his laptop, leaving Finn alone with the dog, who stares at him for a while, wags its tail again, and then scampers off god knows where. It returns, triumphant, with a gross looking tennis ball in its mouth.

By the time Poe comes back, Finn is gingerly throwing the ball down a long hallway, and watching the dog scramble after it as fast as its little legs can carry it.

“Oh man, I shoulda warned you, he’ll never leave you alone now."

“Oops?” Finn says, and Poe laughs, shaking his head, as he sits down next to him on the floor.

“Look at it this way, you’ve got a friend for life.”

Finn huffs, and looks down at BB-8, who gazes at him adoringly before dropping the ball and rolling it toward him. Finn, deciding to accept his fate, picks up the ball and tosses it again.

***

They work steadily for about three hours, with occasional snack breaks, before BB-8 starts going nuts again. Poe sits up, glancing at the clock on the cable box. It’s a little bit past six-thirty. “It’s my dad,” he says, jumping to his feet, and sure enough, a second later, they hear the door open. BB-8 runs off toward it, yapping excitedly.

“Poe, you home?"

“We’re in here!” Poe calls — he’s got a strange look on his face, and his eyes are darting back and forth. He’s nervous, Finn realizes. Doesn’t even have time to wonder about why before Poe’s dad rounds the corner, trailed by BB-8, who’s dancing gleefully around him.

“We? Ah,” he says, spotting Finn. “Hey." He’s still in his uniform, down to the gun holster, which sets a prickle of unease up the back of Finn’s neck. Finn ignores it, tries to concentrate on other things: Poe’s dad is tall, taller than Poe, with close-cropped hair and dark brown eyes. Poe’s got his jawline and some of his build, but otherwise, they don’t look very much alike.

“This is Finn,” he hears Poe say. “Finn, this is my—this is my dad."

"Kes Dameron,” the man offers, holding out his hand. Finn takes it, receives a firm, friendly handshake: Poe’s got his handshake too, apparently. “Nice to finally meet you, Finn. Heard a lot about you."

“I’m gonna go take Finn home, okay?”

This is news to Finn, but he’s not about to protest; they’re basically done, and walking back through those corn fields and into town, in the dark, seems like a bad move.

Kes Dameron throws Poe a slightly amused, curious look, but nods. “Okay, kid,” he says. “See you around, Finn."

“Nice to meet you,” Finn offers, because it seems like the right thing to say.

Kes smiles, and gives Finn a quick nod. “Likewise."

***

The drive back to town is a quiet one. Finn glances at Poe a couple of times: something about the way the light from the street lamps hit him makes his eyelashes glow, makes the curls across his forehead seem especially soft and shiny. Finn knits his fingers together in his lap and looks at the road ahead of them, hoping to memorize the route.

Poe pulls up in front of the house; Finn realizes, belatedly, that he never gave Poe the address. He turns the engine off. He glances over, takes a breath, glances away; turns toward Finn, who wonders if— “Do you want to come over again tomorrow?” Poe blurts out, and Finn blinks.

“What?"

“I mean—“ Poe’s hands flutter in front of him. “If you want to—work on that paper for English, or something. You could borrow my laptop. I’m almost done. Or you could—“ Poe turns away, stares straight ahead. “You could just come over. If you wanted."

Finn has access to a computer at the house: there’s only one, and they have to sign up for turns on it, and it’s always a crapshoot as to whether the internet will be working, but he’s got one. Or he could use the computer lab at school, or the town library, even though the librarian always looks at him funny. He doesn’t need an excuse to go to Poe’s house. He doesn’t really want one.

“Okay,” he says, opens the door to the truck, and flees.

***

Finn has another dream that night — Poe with his eyes shut, posed like some kind of statue, deathly pale in moonlight, with his neck arched and his hair mussed and his lips parted; legs spread beneath a white sheet that doesn’t really cover much anyway, shirtless, barely breathing. Finn doesn’t know—Finn isn’t sure what to do, in the dream, just knows that he doesn’t _like_ it, doesn’t like seeing Poe like that, cold and distant. He wants to touch him, wake him up, see him grinning and flushed and alive. He wants to kiss him, but not like this, not when his lips would feel as hard as ice. _He’s afraid—he can’t—he wants he wants he wants—_

He wakes up with a start, blinks up at the wooden slats of the bunk above him in total silence, as the unmistakeable, unescapable thought roars through his head: _he wants to kiss Poe._

He really, _really_ wants to kiss Poe.

Damn it.

***

Going over to Poe’s house is a bad idea, he realizes. It’s hard enough just sitting next to him in the library: Poe’s always smelled nice but now it seems to be mocking him, tempting him to sit closer; the way Poe bites his lip when he’s thinking keeps drawing Finn’s attention to his mouth, the way Poe leans in toward him when he talks, when he points out something in a textbook, would make it _so easy_ — he could move one inch and actually _do it_.

He can’t want to kiss Poe. For one thing, why would Poe even want to kiss _him_? Poe could probably kiss anyone in the world he wanted, gay or straight or…otherwise, and they’d be into it. What does Finn have to offer him that literally anyone else in the world couldn’t give him? He’s never even kissed another guy — he can’t imagine he’d be very good at it. He hasn’t done that much kissing girls either, to be honest, but at least he’d _expected_ that to be something he’d pick up as he went along.

Wanting to kiss Poe is a complete surprise. It makes things complicated; it’s another thing that’ll fuck up his life, somehow. He doesn’t feel particularly guilty about it, but he knows how it goes, in places like this, tiny small-town American schools, has seen enough kids in enough homes kicked out or beat up for less. Less than kissing a boy, which to be fair, he hasn’t actually done yet.

That’s the thing, though: he doesn’t _have_ to kiss Poe — Poe probably doesn’t even want to kiss him, so that makes it easier. He’s gone three months without so much as realizing it was a possibility, so he can just go back to the status quo and forget about it.

The best laid plans, and all that: he goes over to Poe’s house. Poe takes him around the ranch this time, walks him by the fields and the trees, points out the one he’d fallen out of when he was a kid. In that hour and a half, Finn learns more about Poe Dameron than he has in the whole three months he’s known him. He feels like there’s a reason for it, that Poe’s giving him something, that he should return that gift in kind, but the best he can do is babble, about god knows what; maybe even brings up Rey, whom he never, ever talks about with other people. Poe doesn’t seem to mind: he smiles, he listens, he asks questions.

They wander back to the old barn where Poe used to play hide and seek as a kid, and Poe leans against the door of a stall, pointing up at the rafters, talking about the barn owl that used to live there. Finn is listening, but he’s also watching: the curve of Poe's neck, the way his lips move. His hair’s grown out a little, since the first time Finn met him, and his cheeks are pink, from all the walking around they’ve been doing. He’s still the most beautiful person Finn’s ever seen.

No, Finn realizes, he doesn’t _have_ to kiss Poe. But he wants to. And there’ve been so few things that Finn has wanted, or at least, that he’s _let_ himself want, that he’s had a chance to have—he doesn’t want to miss this one.

“I like girls,” he starts, and knows, instantly, that it’s the wrong thing to say: he wanted to give context, he wanted to set Poe up for the fact that he has no idea what he’s doing, he wanted to prepare him for disappointment or shield himself from judgment. But what Poe takes it as, clearly, is rejection: he blinks, swallows, and pales in quick succession, and then nods his head.

“Okay,” Poe says, and immediately drops his gaze. “Okay." Pushes away from the stall door, and takes an uneasy step toward the house. “Do you wanna…"

He’s upset, Finn realizes. He’s upset and it’s Finn’s fault and that sucks, but also, at the very least, it means he cares, which means Finn has a chance. Finn hates himself for thinking that, and steps toward him, wanting to make sure he doesn’t leave, not before Finn can fix this. Poe pulls away from him, and he stops short, starts babbling again: “No, wait, I didn’t mean—I mean, I did, but—great, I’m doing this wrong, what I wanted to—“ _Focus, focus, get it together._ "I do like girls. But I mean I think I—I kinda…like you too."

Poe’s staring at him like he’s an idiot, which: fair. “I’m not a girl,” he says, finally.

Finn laughs nervously, rolls his eyes at himself. “Yeah, I know. But I still—I like you. I think about—“ he takes a breath; his lungs feel like they might burst. “Kissing you. And stuff. Sometimes. Is that…you know…” he lets his gaze drift up, but isn’t brave enough to keep it on Poe for long. “Is that…” he manages. “Is that okay?"

It takes a while. “It’s okay by me,” Poe says, eventually.

Finn looks up at him: he’s close again, within reach. Smiling a little. He wants to grab him, but knows better. Wants to be held, but can’t expect that much from Poe, who’s only just finding this out. Can’t expect that much from himself, given that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. Just wants to make sure he doesn’t lose this, wants to be sure Poe won’t step away again, or change his mind.

He reaches out and takes Poe’s hands in his: it’s a little goofy, but Poe seems to like it, lets their fingers weave together. Looks up at him, all tan and glowing and gorgeous in the afternoon light — “I like your hair,” Finn manages, and hates himself for it. What a stupid thing to say: of course he likes Poe’s hair, but that’s not why he’s kissing Poe, or about to kiss Poe, anyway.

“I love your eyes,” Poe says, and blushes: it’s okay then, Finn thinks, they’re both being ridiculous, it’s fine.

“Yeah?” Finn says, teasing him a little.

“Yeah,” Poe says, with a smile, and a great deal of sincerity.

So, they kiss.

They kiss a lot, that first day, up against the stall door until Finn feels his knees getting weak and for a little while after that, and then for several months to come. Midterms come and go; they spend way too much time rolling around on Poe’s bed and not enough time studying. Finn is surprised to realize he doesn’t mind his B- in physics all that much, not when he spends the afternoon after he finds out about it with Poe on top of him, kissing him so hard he thinks he might pass out.

By the time finals come around, they’re better about it, keeping their hands off each other long enough to actually study. At school they don’t act different: they hang out sometimes, eat lunch together — it’s good, some of the other kids Finn lives with are in the same school, he doesn’t want things getting around. Poe doesn’t seem to care, doesn’t try to hold his hand or kiss him in the halls or anything, and Finn figures it’s because he doesn’t want anyone else knowing, either. It doesn’t matter: he’s not ashamed of himself, and Poe doesn’t seem ashamed of him, and who else really _needs_ to know, anyway?

Spring break comes and goes — he worries Poe’s going to go away on vacation or something, leave him to catch up on a bunch of reading by himself. He asks, casually, if Poe has any plans, and Poe just shakes his head, extends a blanket invitation for Finn to come over any time.

Finn does, walks over at ten in the morning. It takes about thirty minutes, and when he gets there, he finds Poe all hazy-eyed, with messy hair, wearing an Air Force t-shirt and grey sweatpants. He smiles, though, grabs Finn’s hand and drags him back to his room. Pushes him down onto the bed, and flops down next to him. Finn’s fine with that: they kiss for a while, lazily, lying side by side. Poe strokes the back of his head and stretches a little, bringing their bodies together.

“Mornin',” Poe breathes, all soft and sweet; Finn drapes his arm around Poe's waist, and can’t think of anything to say.

Eventually, BB-8 comes calling, wanting to be let out to go to the bathroom — Poe gets up, telling Finn to stay put. Finn does: Poe’s bed is comfortable, which he’s only halfway noticed before, because it usually contains Poe and that usually means Finn’s concentrating on other things. But it’s nice, not too soft, and warm, and smells like Poe, which makes sense. There’s a bedside table, with a box of kleenex on it. A thought comes, unbidden— _does Poe jerk off here?_ — and Finn feels his face heat. Finn doesn’t do much jerking off himself, doesn’t exactly have the privacy for it, has to save it for when he’s got the chance to take a long shower, which is rarely.

Poe comes back, a little more alert than before. He crawls back into bed, and gives Finn an awkward, almost embarrassed look. “Uh. Hi."

“Hey."

“Is this…is this weird?

Finn turns to look at him properly. “Is what weird?"

“Me dragging you on up here like this."

“Nah,” Finn says, though maybe it is; he doesn’t exactly know what’s normal, for something like this, for whatever it is they’re doing. “I like it."

“Yeah?” Poe says, smiling, reaching out again, to stroke Finn’s cheek. “You hungry?"

“Hmm?"

“You have breakfast already? Could make us something."

Finn laughs, wrapping his arm around Poe’s waist again, pulling him close enough to feel the rise of Poe’s chest against his. “You cook?"

Poe gives a cute little half shrug. “My dad taught me.”

“Cool,” he says, and leans in to kiss him again. Poe welcomes it, opening his mouth, sucking on Finn’s tongue. Finn digs his fingers into the small of Poe’s back, and Poe grins, throwing his leg up over Finn’s hip. _Oh_ , Finn thinks, as he feels Poe’s erection rub against his stomach. It’s not like he hasn’t felt it before: they’ve both gotten hard just from making out, usually just ignore it. But something about Poe like this, so warm and still loose and sleepy, rubbing against him with sloppy abandon and making low, whimpery noises, makes Finn think this going somewhere new. Somewhere Finn’s not exactly against, he realizes, as his own hips jerk up, eagerly meeting each of Poe’s shallows thrusts.

Eventually, they get so worked up that Finn’s sure he’s about to come, sure that even a second more of rocking up against each other like this will set him off, and then— “Wait,” gasps Poe, pushing himself back. “I uh—wait."

“Okay,” says Finn, after the moment it takes him to catch his breath. Poe’s hand is warm against his chest, even through his t-shirt. His heart’s beating so fast, so hard, he’s sure Poe can not only feel but hear it, thudding away like it’s going to burst from his chest. Poe looks at him with wide eyes, his lips swollen and red, his curls tousled wildly.

“I—“ Poe pants, blushing furiously. “I need to—breakfast. I’m gonna go make breakfast."

“Uh…” Finn says, watching him go. “Okay?"

It ends up being more lunch than anything — it’s past noon once they’re done eating and washing the dishes. Poe changes into a t-shirt and jeans, and they go out into the fields, perching on the fence rails and watching BB-8 gallop through the tall grass, chasing birds. He comes back with another ball, eventually, and Poe throws it for him, in a big beautiful arc that sends it spiraling rapidly through the warm spring air.

Poe catches Finn watching him and shrugs. “JV baseball.”

“You didn’t make varsity?” with an arm like that, in a town this size, Finn doubts it.

Poe shrugs again, looks almost terminally disinterested. “Team sports aren’t really my thing.”

Finn doubts that too, and not just because Poe won’t meet his eye: Finn’s seen him lead groups, and do so effortlessly. He likes being a part of them, doesn’t need to be in control, but is good at it when he has to be. Finn likes that about Poe, his casual confidence, his ability to mediate. Finn wishes he’d had more of that in his life before.

“Okay,” he says, and scoots over across the rail, till his thigh is pressed up against Poe’s. Poe glances over at him, and grins.

“Hey there,” Poe says, fluttering his ridiculous eyelashes — it’s more of a joke than a genuine flirtation, but it works for him, and Finn has to laugh.

“You’re so…” Finn starts to say, and realizes that he can’t even put it into words, everything Poe is: beautiful and kind and smart and perfect. Finn should be jealous of him, of everything Poe has, the father who loves him, the house he has all to himself, the dog, the truck, the life he’s lived and the future waiting for him. But Poe’s just so…so willing to share all of it. And he’s always so grateful for Finn’s presence, always so sincerely pleased to see him. Finn can’t bring himself to say all that, just reaches over, tangles his fingers in Poe’s t-shirt, and pulls him into a quick, soft kiss.

It’s the first time he’s kissed Poe outside, he realizes. It’s kind of nice, being out in the sun; the smell of the grass, the sound of birds in the trees. Poe’s arm around his back, holding him steady as their lips brush against each other gently, careful in a way that’s strange after all the time they’ve spent tangled up in each other, but not in a bad way.

Eventually, they break apart, just enough that they can take a breath; Finn’s fingers are still twisted in Poe’s shirt and Poe’s arm is still steady around Finn’s waist.

“For the record,” Poe murmurs, smiling. “You’re so…” he lets the pause stretch, making a point. “Too.”

Finn laughs, and Poe leans in to kiss him again.

***

So these are the memories he has of Poe: seeing him for the first time, and being struck dumb; being introduced to his friends and spending the next few weeks trying to figure out why this guy, this perfect, beautiful, amazing guy, was bothering with him at all; studying with him, watching him chew at his bottom lip, wondering what it’d be like to do the same; kissing him, drowning in the feeling of Poe’s body moving against his own. Goofing around on his bed when they should've been studying, watching movies on his laptop, listening to music. Playing with BB-8 in the fields, rolling around in the tall grass and laughing as the dog jumped over them and licked their faces.

The way Poe’s eyes shine when he’s happy. The way Poe’s hands stroked up his sides, along his spine, like it was a privilege to be touching him. Poe's soft hair, those silky curls, the warmth of his skin, the _scent_ of it. The way his lips part when he’s turned on, and the sounds he makes.

Finn’s glad he’s got those. He’s glad he got to know Poe as well as he did, spent as much time with him as he could. ‘cause no matter what happens now, no matter what Kes Dameron thinks of him, no matter what he tells Phasma about Finn, whether or not he gets kicked out onto the street tomorrow, that’ll be something to hold on to: Poe Dameron likes him — _loves_ him, probably.

He’s not going to say it was worth it — if he gets thrown in jail, or something, he’ll probably regret that. But it won’t change the fact that someone like Poe — that _Poe himself_ — loves him. Even if he never sees Poe again, even if Kes Dameron has him kicked out of school or run out of town or something, he’ll still have that.

It’s still not worth it, really: he’d rather see Poe again. Rather have another afternoon with him, have another chance to say all those things he could never really put into words before.

But he can live with it.

It’s all his fault anyway, for not trying harder, for not paying more attention to the time or noticing the racket BB-8 always made when Kes came home. And now Poe’s probably in trouble too, and that’s the worst of it, that’s the reason Finn had stuck around, hanging out behind Poe’s pickup: he wants to make sure Poe’s okay.

It’s been a while, and he hasn't heard any shouting. That’s probably a good sign. He wishes he hadn’t left his backpack, his cellphone, or his shirt (he’d accidentally grabbed one of Poe’s before heading out the window) — he could’ve called Poe, or texted him, just to check in. Wonders if he can just stay there, till Kes goes to bed, then sneak back into Poe’s room, and say a proper goodbye, at least. Phasma’d normally be pissed at him for staying out that late, but she’ll have much bigger fish to fry, once she finds out about him…deflowering Kes Dameron’s only child.

The front door to the house bangs open, and he jumps up automatically, putting him in full view of whoever’s coming out.

“Finn,” Poe says, stopping short on the porch. He looks fine, clear-eyed, like he’s combed his hair, and he’s wearing Finn’s shirt.

“Hi.” Finn chokes out, and can’t stop staring.

Poe lets out a short, breathless laugh, and then jumps off the porch, runs straight toward him; Finn jogs around the back of the pickup to meet him, and they bump into each other, in an awkward, fumbling embrace that’s better than anything Finn’s ever felt before.

“Are you—I was—“

“I’m fine, are you—"

“Yeah, I’m good, I—We were—we were about to come lookin' for you."

Finn swallows around the lump in his throat. “We?”

“We,” calls Kes Dameron, from the porch. He looks more amused than anything, which is a change. “How’s it goin’, Finn?"

“Uh…” Finn says, glancing at Poe, as if he might have the right answer, here.

Poe laughs, a little nervously. “I, um—I tried to call you."

“I left all my stuff in your room.”

“I’ll go get it,” says Kes, and gives Poe a serious look. “Two of you should have a talk."

“Okay, dad,” Poe calls back over his shoulder, and then turns to look at Finn again. “I’m—I’m sorry, about all of—I didn’t, god, I know it—it was bad, I know, but—"

“Is your dad—“ _Going to kill me?_ Finn can’t help think, even though it seems a lot less likely right now.

“He’s okay. I mean I think…I think he was a little…” Poe swallows; his cheeks go slightly pink. “Think he was a little surprised.” That’s one hell of an understatement, but Finn’s willing to let it go. “But he’s uh…he wants to take you to dinner. Us, he wants us…all to have dinner. Together."

Finn blinks. “Uh. He—What?"

“He wants to take us to dinner."

Finn has to process that. He looks at Poe: Poe doesn’t seem to be lying, or under some kind of duress. Kes Dameron apparently does just want to take his only child’s…sort of boyfriend…to dinner. With him. After having found them having sex.

Finn has admittedly limited experience with fathers, but that doesn’t make any sense at all.

“But—why?"

“Well since we’re—“ Poe takes a deep breath, and Finn automatically strokes at his arms, trying to comfort him. “Since we’re…kind of dating, you and…” he waves his hand between them. “You and me. He wants to get to…know you."

Finn says the first thing that comes to mind: “Do you want to?”

Poe looks surprised, and then smiles. “Yeah, I want to,” he says, softly. “I mean, as long as you—"

“I do,” Finn says, very quickly.

“Okay,” Poe says, giving him a careful look over. “Are you—"

“I’m sure.” And he is — it’ll be awkward, definitely. But it’ll be dinner, with Poe, and the possibility of tomorrow, with Poe still in his life. It’s a better case scenario than he could’ve ever imagined. A better birthday than he’s ever had, definitely. “I—"

“You boys decent out there?” comes a voice, and Finn stumbles back, putting a respectable distance between him and Poe.

“Hilarious,” Poe says, under his breath, and turns to look at his father, who’s coming down the steps, carrying Finn’s backpack in one hand and two jackets in the other. “Got everything?"

“Uh-huh,” he says, handing Poe a jacket.

“Heard it’s gonna storm tonight,” he says, handing Finn his bag and the other jacket. “Put that on, son."

Finn’s not sure what part of that to react to, and ends up obeying, just out of shock. “Good man,” Kes said, giving him what might actually be an approving nod, before turning around and heading for his car.

Finn looks at Poe, who winks and mouths _you look good_ at him, which isn’t especially helpful, then laughs, shaking his head.

“Come on,” Poe says, walking up to him, and takes Finn’s hand firmly in his.

***

“So where are we going?” Finn asks, once some of the shock of riding in the backseat of Kes’s car, under Kes’s careful rear-view mirror supervision, with Poe next to him and rubbing his thumb across the back of Finn’s hand, wears off.

“Thought we could stop by Richardi’s."

Poe groans and rolls his eyes. “C’mon, dad…"

“What, you too old for ice cream now?"

“No, dad, I’m not too old for ice cream,” says Poe, mockingly sweet, and Finn laughs, even though he’s still confused. Poe smiles at him again.

“I thought we were getting dinner?” Finn whispers, and Poe leans close, as if sharing a secret.

“When I was a kid,” he says, low, playfully embarrassed. “And they wanted to have a real serious talk with me about somethin’, they’d always let me have dessert first.” _They_ , Finn notices, meaning both of Poe’s parents; he must’ve been really little, then. “My dad still likes to do it when he’s got something to tell me that he thinks I’m not gonna like.” Finn’s expression must change, because Poe gets all serious and concerned. “Hey. He’s not gonna—he’s not gonna take us out for ice cream just to tell you—you can’t come around anymore or anything like that.” He squeezes Finn’s hand gently. “Okay? We’re good, I promise."

“Okay,” says Finn, who’s got a lot of reasons not to trust, generally, but no reason in the world not to trust Poe.

Richardi’s is a bit of a mystery to Finn: he’s never been, and he figures it’s pretty good, since there’s always a line out the door, but it’s the only ice cream shop in town, so it’s not like people are spoiled for choice. Kes shoos them off to the park across the street once they get their cones, sticking around in line to pay for all three of them. Finn thinks maybe he should protest, but Poe tugs on the edge of his jacket, and so he goes, mumbling a nervous _thank you_ at Kes before he does.

Poe makes a beeline toward a picnic table, and hops onto the table part immediately, feet resting on the bench; Finn sits down properly, and looks up at him. “What are you doing?"

“I like it up here,” Poe says, taking a big bite of his orange swirl. “Good view of the swings. That middle one's the best, I used to jump off it all the time when I was a kid.” Finn’s started to detect something of a pattern when it comes to Poe’s childhood stories, and can’t help but laugh.

“Why?"

Poe shrugs. “I dunno. Seemed fun. You get enough height on the swing back and you can get pretty far, you know?”

Finn shakes his head, tastes a bit of his rocky road. It’s not bad; maybe not wait in line on a hot day worthy, but not terrible.

“Can also scare the shit out of your parents that way,” says Kes, from behind them, and Finn tries not to jump.

“Yeah, that too,” says Poe, somewhat apologetically, and slides down to sit on the bench next to Finn. “What’d you get?"

“Strawberry,” Kes says, handing Poe a bunch of napkins, and then passing a few over to Finn.

“Nice,” Poe says, and gives his father a steady stare. “So?"

“So what?"

Poe doesn’t say anything else, just keeps staring; Kes stares back for a moment, and then looks over at Finn.

“So, Finn…"

“Yessir,” Finn says, automatically, and _does not_ glance over Poe, who’s making a strange, choking noise next to him.

“Heard it’s your birthday today.”

He does glance over at Poe for that; Poe’s become very interested in the table top in front of him. _Unbelievable_. He looks back at Kes.

“I—yeah. Yes.Yes, sir. It’s my birthday."

“You're eighteen then, son?”

Finn nods, not sure where this is going, but certain it could get worse at any moment.

“Good. Good,” Kes nods to himself, taking a large spoonful of his very pink ice cream into his mouth. "Congratulations."

"Thank you?"

“Hm," Kes hums. "Well. Thing is, I ain’t in the habit of tellin’ grown men how to live their lives. Unless they’re breakin’ the law, of course."

“Of…of course."

“You ain’t breaking the law, are you, Finn? Don’t drink or smoke or anythin’ like that?"

“Smoking age’s eighteen,” mumbles Poe, just to be a smartass, apparently; Finn throws him a _you’re not helping_ look and Poe just shrugs. “Well, it is.”

“No sir,” Finn says, firmly, before Kes can respond. “I don’t drink, smoke, or do drugs, or…” he tries to think of more illegal activities that he doesn’t engage in. “…jaywalk,” he offers, which is a lie, and Kes probably knows it, because it’s not like he and Poe used the crosswalk to get to the park just now. “Nothing like that."

Kes nods again, takes another bite of his ice cream; Finn slurps nervously at his own, watches Poe take a couple of delicate licks out of the corner of his eye.

“Like I was sayin’,” Finn snaps back to attention the minute Kes starts speaking again. “Not about to be tellin’ the two of you how to live your lives. The only thing is, of course, that one of you’s still living under my roof,” Finn nods, trying to convey an understanding he’s not actually in possession of yet. “So all I’m askin’ you for is a bit of consideration, all right?"

Meaning he doesn’t want a repeat of this afternoon. Well, that makes three of them, not counting BB-8, who hadn’t seemed particularly happy about the commotion either. Finn can work with that, can make sure he and Poe don’t get carried away again — maybe it means they never have sex again, which would suck, but at least they could still hang out.

“Okay. Yeah. Yes, sir,” Finn says, and looks over at Poe, hoping he’ll chime in. Poe looks slightly mortified again, but nods too.

“Right,” Kes says, and scraps up the last bit of ice cream. “Well. Gonna go throw this out,” he says, gesturing at his empty cup and plastic spoon. “Might take a while.” He gives Poe a long, unsubtle look, and walks away, leaving the two of them alone again.

“See?” Poe says, a little manically, turning toward him. “Not that bad, right?"

“Not that bad,” Finn answers, which it wasn’t: not as bad as he’d been imaging, anyway. He still feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him, and maybe it shows, because Poe looks concerned.

“Hey,” he says, softly. “We don’t have to—you don’t have to come to dinner. We could drop you off, I’ll see you tomorrow, it’ll be fine."

“I want to go to dinner,” Finn says, and realizes that it’s true: Poe’s dad is weird, but so is Poe, and he’s been a hell of a lot more understanding than he needed to be. If Kes wants to get to know him, well—the feeling's honestly kind of mutual, and he appreciates the chance.

Poe exhales. “Yeah?” he says, shoulders sagging, obviously relieved.

Finn ducks his head, bumps their shoulders together. “Yeah,” he says, and finishes off his cone as quickly as he can. Poe nudges him back and does the same. Kes, who’s been pretending to read the new recycling mandate posted by the trash cans, walks back toward them.

“You two ready?”

Finn takes a good look at Poe, smiles automatically as he does. Poe smiles back, blushing a little from the attention, and then rolling his eyes. Finn takes his hand, weaves their fingers together.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I think we are."

***


End file.
